


How to Plan a Fake Wedding in 6 Months or Less

by iceprinceofbelair



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chronic Illness, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Self-Esteem Issues, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21874183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceprinceofbelair/pseuds/iceprinceofbelair
Summary: Did you know that if you send a billionaire a wedding invitation, their secretary will probably send you a perfunctory gift without bothering to check who you are? In theory. In practice, things don't always work out like that.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Sarah Rogers & Steve Rogers
Comments: 7
Kudos: 38
Collections: Stucky Secret Santa 2019





	How to Plan a Fake Wedding in 6 Months or Less

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EachPeachPearPlum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EachPeachPearPlum/gifts).



“So, don’t get mad…”

Steve looks up from the couch where he’s patching a hole on the inside of his jacket and raises an eyebrow at Bucky.

“Isn’t that usually my line?” He says with an amused smirk.

“Ha ha,” Bucky deadpans as Steve returns to his sewing. “I’m serious. Hear me out before you yell at me.”

Steve sighs. “Lay it on me.”

“So I read this post on tumblr-”

“Oh, Christ.”

“-that said if you want an expensive wedding present, you should send an invitation to a billionaire because their secretary will probably send you a gift whether you know them or not because they don’t want to offend anyone.”

“Uh huh.”

“So I wondered, naturally, if you’d even have to be getting married for that to work. I mean, would they even check?”

“Probably not,” Steve placates, squinting at his wobbly stitches in annoyance.

“And _then_ I thought about how we needed a new cutting board after you found that splinter in your salad and I figured it couldn’t do any harm to invite Tony Stark to our fake wedding.”

Steve takes a moment to gather his thoughts, trying to figure out why Bucky would think he’d be mad about this. They _do_ need a new cutting board and it’s not like Steve hasn’t been vocal about his disdain for the very concept of billionaires since they were in high school. He’s always been a socialist at heart. 

“So you defrauded a warmongering billionaire to get us a new cutting board,” Steve says blithely, adding a few more stitches. “What’s the big deal?”

There’s a beat of silence.

“He’s coming.”

Steve sticks the needle straight into his finger. “Ow! Fuck!” He shoves his finger into his mouth, leveling a glare at Bucky who is standing sheepishly in the living room doorway. “What do you _mean_ he’s coming? To what?”

Bucky offers a guilty smile. “Our wedding?”

Steve blinks. “But we’re not getting married.”

“I know that, genius,” Bucky says with a roll of his eyes. “But Tony fucking Stark thinks we are and he RSVPed with Pepper fucking Potts as his plus one.”

“And when exactly is this wedding supposed to be taking place?” Steve asks, trying to figure out exactly how deep into this shitpile they are.

Bucky looks down. “April 25th.”

“I swear to God, Buck, if you picked our wedding date because of Miss Congeniality...:”

“I didn’t think he’d actually come!” Bucky cuts in before Steve can finish whatever likely colourful threat he was about to spout. “Honestly, I just thought it’d be a good way to get a new cutting board for free. How was I supposed to know there’d be consequences for my actions?”

Steve bites back a smile. He refuses to find this funny.

“So what’s the plan, jerk? You gonna write Tony Stark again and tell him you lied?”

Bucky chokes. “No! He’s _Tony Stark!_ He has enough money to make us disappear without any questions asked.”

“Well we can’t very well let him show up to some random church in April for a nonexistent wedding!”

For a moment, Bucky is quiet and the moment lasts just long enough for Steve to get a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach.

“No!”

“Stevie-”

“No way. Absolutely not!”

“Come on, think about it!” Bucky pleads, completely unfazed by one of Steve’s most intense glares. “All we have to do is plan a fake reception. He doesn’t have to actually come to the wedding. We can just say we’re getting married in a courthouse or something.”

“My ma would murder me herself if I didn’t get married in a church.”

“We’re not _actually_ getting married, Steve,” Bucky says and he has the nerve to sound exasperated when _he’s the one who got them into this mess._

“Yeah, but we’re gonna need guests and a venue and a cake and Christ knows what else-”

(“Lord’s name!” Bucky scolds in a fairly accurate impression of Sarah Rogers which Steve pointedly ignores.)

“-all to trick one billionaire into buying us a fancy cutting board? I mean, have you thought this through?”

“Of course I haven’t,” Bucky says, sounding far too calm for the situation at hand. 

“And what are we going to tell our parents?” Steve goes on. “Hey, guys, I know we didn’t tell you we were dating but Bucky and I just set a date to get married?”

Bucky scoffs. “Please. Your ma already thinks we’re dating in secret.”

“Exactly!” Steve shrieks, exasperated. “So let’s not encourage her!”

After inspecting his hurt finger to make sure it isn’t going to bleed all over his sewing, Steve picks up his jacket again and shoves the needle through the fabric with much greater force than necessary. The silence drags on while Bucky takes a seat in the armchair by the window, one ankle tucked under his other thigh and his arms thrown lazily across the armrests like he doesn’t have a care in the world. And he _should_ have a care in the world, damnit, because _this is serious._

Eventually, Steve gives a frustrated sigh and tosses his jacket aside huffily. 

“If we’re going to do this, and that’s a big if,” he begins, frowning at Bucky when he perks up a little. “We need to establish some rules.”

Bucky grins. “There’s my little hypocrite.”

Steve scowls but otherwise ignores him. “First of all, we don’t lie to our families. Or to the hummus bros .”

“Done,” Bucky agrees readily.

“Nat’s gonna skin you alive, you know that, right?”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Second, we need to set an end date for this thing.”

Bucky frowns, looking adorably confused. “An end date for what?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “For the marriage, dumbass. We can’t stay fake married forever. At some point we’re gonna have to get fake divorced.”

Bucky goes unusually quiet then, pulling his socked feet up under his body. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

“At least we won’t have to have a custody battle, right?” Steve says in an attempt to lighten the mood. As annoyed as he is with Bucky right now, he’s always hated seeing his best friend upset. When Bucky cracks a small smile, Steve feels the tension in his shoulders dissipate. “What is it, Buck?”

Bucky looks immensely uncomfortable. “I was just thinking...I mean, when I was thinking about how I got us into this mess and how I could make it up to you, I thought that maybe this whole arrangement could be beneficial to both of us anyway and maybe we wouldn’t have to end it until-”

“Until what?” Steve asks suspiciously.

Bucky mumbles something unintelligible then and Steve just _knows_ he isn’t going to like it. Steve makes a show of turning up his hearing aid.

“Sorry, what was that, Buck?”

“Until Trump’s out of office.”

Well, that certainly isn’t what Steve had been expecting. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for Bucky to go on. Apparently well aware that not even the great Bucky Barnes can out-stubborn Steve Rogers, Bucky caves.

“I just thought it’d be good to have you on my health insurance until the whole situation settles down,” Bucky mutters with a hangdog expression.

Steve blinks. He has a couple of options here. His gut instinct is to remind Bucky in no uncertain terms that he’s _not a fucking charity case_ and that he can take care of himself despite appearances and what his ma would call his _best efforts to the contrary._ But, really, Steve has known Bucky long enough to be sure that he isn’t coming from a place of pity and Steve would be lying if he said he isn’t occasionally thrown into a blind panic at the thought of what another bout of bronchitis would do to his bank account. 

He shudders at the very thought. 

So, instead of blowing up (like he _desperately_ wants to), he practices a magical technique his ma has been teaching him since he was old enough to pack a punch called _taking a deep fucking breath, Steven._

“Buck, that could be another six years from now,” he says much more reasonably than Bucky had apparently been expecting if his wide-eyed astonishment is anything to go by. “I couldn’t ask you to burden yourself with me for that long.”

It hurts him to say it, it aches deep in his chest. Because, the truth is, Steve Rogers has been in love with Bucky Barnes since before he even had the words to say it, since they were getting into scrapes with the neighbourhood children and swapping lunches at school. 

They were so close that there was never really any question about whether they’d room together in college. Steve had deliberately never given much thought to what would happen to the pair of them afterwards. It had always been Steve and Bucky against the world. But Steve had always known that Bucky would meet a nice girl and settle down and then he wouldn’t have room in his home for his best friend anymore. Steve resigned himself to that fate a long time ago. 

But somehow here they are, scraping to afford an apartment in Queens (though Steve’s little Brooklyn heart has always felt wrong here) while Bucky works in technical security and Steve struggles to find a use for his fine arts degree. Together. Even Queens can feel like home if Bucky is there.

“You’re not a burden, Stevie,” Bucky says, his impossibly soft voice breaking Steve out of his thoughts. 

Expression unreadable, Bucky sits down on the couch and takes Steve’s perpetually cold hands in his. Steve bites back a wince; he hadn’t meant to let those feelings slip. He doesn’t want Bucky thinking that he feels this way because of anything _Bucky_ does. After all, it isn’t _Bucky’s_ fault that Steve’s lungs don’t work or that he has a useless degree and can’t always quite manage his share of the rent. 

“I know,” Steve says with what he hopes is a convincing smile. “But, I mean, being _married_ to me is definitely going to be difficult. And I’m pretty sure marrying for health insurance is technically illegal.”

“So is beating up creepy guys outside bars but that doesn’t seem to stop you,” Bucky shoots back playfully. 

Steve looks at him blankly, caught between glaring and laughing. The entire situation has gone from funny to overwhelming very suddenly and his heart is hammering out of tempo in his chest. He feels a little sick.

“You’re really sure about this?” Steve says quietly, unsure quite when he made up his mind to agree to this ridiculous scheme. But Bucky is looking at him with such _fondness_ that Steve can’t remember exactly how to breathe. He’s so far gone on this man that, really, if Bucky asked him to jump, he wouldn’t even bother asking how high.

“Well, I mean, I got us into this mess,” Bucky laughs, jerking Steve out of his self-involved heartache. “The least I can do is fake marry you and get us a party out of it.”

This is a terrible idea. Not just because it’s probably illegal (Steve doesn’t really care about that, despite his token protests) but because it’s going to take an unsustainable amount of discipline to keep himself from falling apart. The very thought of kissing Bucky makes him want to explode.

“So, I guess this means we’re actually getting married, huh? Officially,” Steve adds, watching with equal parts pain and delight in his chest as Bucky’s eyes spark with joy.

Bucky lunges forward then and crushes Steve in a hug. It takes Steve mere moments to melt into him. It’s going to be fine. After all, they’re already very affectionate with one another. Marriage is only a piece of paper anyway, right? It’s fine.

Still, Steve’s heart leaps into his throat when Bucky tucks his nose into Steve’s hair and sighs. “Thank you, Stevie. I know you don’t like it when people try to take care of you so just...thank you.”

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat and gives Bucky a squeeze. _I don’t like it when people try to take care of me,_ he wants to say. _Only you._ But he doesn’t. Instead, he closes his eyes and presses his good ear against Bucky’s chest, listening to the fluttering beat of his heart. 

“I guess we’d better organise a church because my ma really will kill us.”

Bucky’s laugh rumbles through his chest and, despite himself, Steve has to smile.

~

_New message in HUMMUS BROS_

**Cap’n:** bucky’s an idiot so now we have to get married

 **Birdman:** sounds about right

 **SUPERIOR BIRDMAN:** to each other?

 **Cap’n:** yeah

 **Cap’n:** bucky barnes, known from now on as The Moron, sent a wedding invite to tony stark so he’d send us a fancy present and he said he’s coming and now we have to get married

 **Birdman:** wow

 **SUPERIOR BIRDMAN:** y’know if u guys want to get married u don’t need an excuse bc that sounds flimsy at best man

 **Birdman:** speaking of best man

 **SUPERIOR BIRDMAN:** DIBS ON BUCKY

 **Buckaroo:** :)

 **Cap’n:** not sure if i’m offended or relieved

 **English:** it’s 2 in the fucking morning over here what the fuck guys

 **Nat:** tldr steve and bucky are getting married

 **English:** finally. why didn’t you tell us you were dating? 

**Buckaroo:** it’s a long story

 **Cap’n:** bucky’s an idiot

 **Buckaroo:** hey waddaya know. not such a long story after all.

 **English:** okay hang on i’m getting caught up

 **Birdman:** i’m ur best man tho steve right???

 **Cap’n:** ofc babe

 **Birdman:** :*

 **English:** steve

 **English:** this is the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard

 **Buckaroo:** hey we beat our record stevie :)

 **Cap’n:** WE???

 **English:** you’re not exempt from stupidity in this steven! what the FUCK are you thinking?

 **Cap’n:** i feel attacked

 **English:** hOW is this a good idea? you’re going to gather your family and friends and say vows and SIGN A LEGALLY BINDING CONTRACT because you don’t want to cancel on a billionaire?

 **Cap’n:** well when you put it like that…

 **Birdman:** it’s almost like there are other forces at work

 **SUPERIOR BIRDMAN:** indeed. almost like. you have ulterior motives.

 **Buckaroo:** yeah you’re right

 **Birdman:**???

 **Buckaroo:** i think we have to tell them stevie. can’t lie about it no more.

 **Cap’n:** buck??

 **SUPERIOR BIRDMAN:** i can’t believe all my dreams are about to come true here in this hummus bros groupchat

 **Buckaroo:** here goes

 **Buckaroo:** if we get married steve can be on my health insurance until orangina’s out of office

 **English:** is now a good time to remind you guys how great the nhs is?

 **Birdman:** a truly terrible time english. bucky just built us up only to tear us back down.

 **SUPERIOR BIRDMAN:** are you guys. sure.. there’s no other reason?

 **Birdman:** like the fact you’ve both been crushing on each other since first grade?

 **Cap’n:** sam. we’ve been OVER THIS

 **Birdman:** yeah and i call bull

 **Cap’n:** we’re not having this conversation again sam. save the date for april 25th next year. 

**Nat:** how are you going to afford a wedding exactly?

 **Buckaroo:** baby steps

 **SUPERIOR BIRDMAN:** did u choose your wedding day because of miss congeniality? legends.

~

“I have no idea how to plan a wedding,” Steve says, staring helplessly at the array of tabs he has open in Chrome. “There’s so much to do. I mean, we need a venue and a guest list and a cake and music and food and-”

“Stevie,” Bucky says in that soft, soft voice that just makes Steve melt right at the base of his spine. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Please don’t give yourself a panic attack over this. We have six months so we’re still _at least_ five and a half months away from the panic attack stage.”

Even as he’s rolling his eyes, Steve finds his lips twitching up into a smile.

“There _is_ a lot to do,” Bucky says, sounding impossibly calm. “But before we do any of that, I think we need to tell the gruesome twosome what’s going on.”

“Don’t call them that,” Steve reprimands but it’s weak by his usual standards.

Winifred Barnes and Sarah Rogers - affectionately dubbed ‘the gruesome twosome’ by one of the neighbours - have been the terror of their apartment block since they were kids themselves and little has changed with their maturing and raising families of their own. Best friends since childhood, the pair are still inseparable and host biweekly card games with copious amounts of Irish whiskey.

“I’ll call my ma and let her know we’re coming over,” Bucky says, tossing Steve’s phone over to him. “Your ma’ll probably be there anyway but we should give her a heads up.”

“They’re never gonna let us live this down, you know,” Steve sighs and starts dialling.

~

Steve pulls Bucky to a halt outside their parents’ apartment block.

“Stevie, it’s freezing,” Bucky whines, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “Let’s go inside.”

“You know how we’re going to explain this, right?” Steve asks, ignoring him. 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Yes, I know. We make it abundantly clear that I am an idiot and you are the poor, innocent soul I’ve been dragging into trouble all our lives.”

Steve gives him a withering look. “I can’t believe I’m fake marrying you.”

“Better believe it, Stevie,” Bucky grins, flinging an arm around Steve’s shoulders and dragging him into the lobby. 

By the time Steve has finished puffing his way up six flights of stairs (the elevator has been broken, in Sarah Rogers’s words, ‘since God was a boy’), they’re both considerably jittery. 

“This is a ridiculous idea, isn’t it?” Bucky mutters, staring at his ma’s front door.

“Yes!” Steve bursts out, tucking his inhaler back into the front pocket of his jeans. “If only someone had said as much earlier.”

Bucky shoves him and knocks before opening the door, leading Steve along by the hand.

“Ma? We’re here!” He calls.

“In the living room!”

This is stupid and Steve is so not looking forward to this conversation but he can’t help but smile at the sound of Winnie Barnes’s voice. Steve spent as much time in Bucky’s apartment growing up as he did his own so perhaps it’s no surprise that he feels so at home.

As they enter the living room, however, Steve feels his stomach drop down into his feet. 

The place is absolutely _packed_ with Bucky’s family, his three sisters and their spouses and children, his parents, and the odd cousin. And, of course, Sarah Rogers is sitting in her usual armchair by the window, her eyes bright and teary. There’s a banner proclaiming ‘Congratulations on your engagement!’ hanging across the wall behind the television. 

“There they are!” Winnie squeaks, opening her arms to embrace the two of them. “

Bucky regains himself first. “What- what’s going on?”

“Well, when you called earlier and said you and Stevie had some big news to share, I thought it’d be an idea to get the whole family together,” Winnie says excitedly, anxious hands adjusting Bucky’s collar automatically. “You sounded so excited. Oh, congratulations you two!”

As Winnie leans in to kiss Steve’s cheek, he shoots a look at Bucky which is equal parts panic and bewilderment. Bucky, for his part, looks equally confused.

“Here’s to the happy couple,” Sarah says with a grin, raising her cup of tea in a mock toast. “Hip hip!”

Sarah leads the entire room through three cheers during which Steve becomes acutely aware of the fact that he hasn’t let go of Bucky’s hand. 

“Oh, um. Wow, Ma, this is- unexpected,” Bucky says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I mean, this is so sweet but, um, Steve’s having a little trouble with his asthma - stairs, y’know - so could you give us a minute? We were just gonna head across the hall for the nebuliser. Won’t be long.”

Catching on, Steve gives a little cough as Bucky whips around and drags him out of the room. Excited chatter breaks out in the room behind them but Steve’s ears are ringing with anxiety, so much so that he doesn’t even remember unlocking the door to his mother’s apartment before Bucky is shutting it behind them. 

For several seconds, neither of them speak. And then-

“Fuck,” Bucky breathes, running a hand through his hair. 

“You can say that again,” Steve mutters.

“Fuck,” Bucky says again.

“Okay, okay,” Steve says, taking a deep breath as he starts pacing across his mother’s kitchen. “We just need to explain that this is all a big misunderstanding.”

Bucky frowns. “Stevie, we can’t tell my whole extended family that we’re essentially committing insurance fraud.”

“Well, we can’t exactly go back in there and pretend we’re actually engaged!” Steve shoots back. His heart is hammering uncomfortably in his chest and he feels a little lightheaded. 

Bucky is quiet for a moment and Steve is acutely aware of the blood roaring in his ears. He sits down heavily in one of the kitchen chairs and takes slow, deep breaths. 

“That’s exactly what we’re gonna do,” Bucky says, demonstrating that he has, in fact, completely _lost his fucking mind._

“Buck-”

“Just think about it for a second,” Bucky goes on, sitting down in the chair next to Steve. “We pretend to be a couple tonight and then tomorrow, when everybody’s calmed down, we explain the situation to the people we want to tell.”

Steve feels sick. “This is too much, Buck. It didn’t really hit me how many people we’d be lying to and- I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Stevie,” Bucky says and his stupid voice is so, so _soft._ His stupid, strong hands wrap themselves around Steve’s and, fuck, Steve is too far gone on this stupid _idiot_ to pull away. “Please. Look, I know this is risky but it’s far from the stupidest thing we’ve ever done.”

Steve huffs a soft laugh of acknowledgement. He can’t argue with that. 

“It’ll be okay. I know this isn’t...ideal. But it’s only tonight. And tomorrow we’ll come clean and give the gruesome twosome something to laugh about.”

They’ll laugh about it, alright. They’ll laugh about it until their sides split. 

Steve sighs. “Fine. But _only_ for tonight!”

Bucky sends him a mock salute, smirking like he’s trying to stop his whole face breaking into a grin. Idiot. 

~

By 11:30, Steve has had several glasses of red wine and everything is starting to get pleasantly fuzzy. He’s told the invented story of their proposal too many times to count and he’s starting to get lightheaded. He catches his mother’s eye across the room and feels his lips twitch into a relieved smile. He hasn’t had much of a chance to speak to her besides their initial hug and congratulations and now, after a particularly wild day, he really does just want his ma. 

“Need a top up?” Sarah asks, gesturing to his nearly empty glass with the bottle by her elbow. Steve holds the glass out to her and she fills it with a twinkling laugh. “I know you’ve got plenty to be celebrating but your head won’t thank you in the morning.”

Steve groans. “The morning is ages away,” he says, taking another sip. He stopped tasting the wine about half an hour ago but he doesn’t feel like stopping.

They sit together in silence for a while, Steve watching the Barnes family mingling and laughing and feeling, quite unexpectedly, separate from it all. It’s only the two of them, has been ever since his father died in Iraq shortly after he was born. But Steve has always felt that the Barnes’s were his family too and grew up calling Bucky’s sisters his own. Now, though, in the celebratory bustle of the extended Barnes family, Steve can almost see a bubble around the two of them. 

“I’m so happy for you and Bucky, darling,” Sarah says softly, looking at her son with so much fondness that Steve feels a little teary. “I won’t be around forever and I just- I can’t think of anybody I’d trust more to look out for you.”

Steve frowns. “You’re not dying, ma,” he says firmly and Sarah laughs. 

“What, not ever?” She teases.

“Not ever.”

Sarah hums thoughtfully. “Well, then. In that case, I’m happy you’ve found someone who loves you as much as I do.”

“Ma-” Steve starts, quite unprepared to let her go on thinking that Bucky feels anything more than platonic love for him. But she cuts him off. 

“Hush, Stevie. Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt your drunken elders?” Sarah says with a smug smile. “It’s a mother’s job to worry and I worry about you every single day. I’ll keep on worrying, because you’re my baby, but I think I’ll worry a little bit less knowing you’re in good hands.”

Steve pouts. “Don’t you think I can look after myself?”

At that, Sarah throws back her head and practically cackles with laughter. “Oh, sweetie, we both know the two of you would be lost without each other. It’s like only one of you is allowed to have common sense at a time.”

That’s...unfortunately a fair assessment. The reason he and Bucky work so well together is because they’re both idiots in different parts of life. Bucky would definitely starve to death if left to his own devices and Steve, well, he’d definitely have bled out in some back alley by now. 

“Stevie,” she says, raising her glass to clink against his. “You’re my son. You’ve got Irish fighting spirit and not a lick of common sense - but you’re the dog’s bollocks and I love you.”

Steve snorts wine up his nose and collapses against his utterly ridiculous mother in fits of laughter.

~

Steve doesn’t remember going to bed. He doesn’t remember leaving the Barnes apartment or getting changed into his pyjamas. And he certainly doesn’t remember his mother mentioning she’d gotten a dog but _something_ is lying in his bed and drooling on his shoulder and a dog is his best bet.

“Ew, gross, Buck,” he croaks, giving Bucky’s head a light shove before shuffling his shoulder out from under it. Bucky gives a small snuffle and, to Steve’s annoyance, cuddles in closer with his arm tightening across Steve’s waist. Steve rolls his eyes. “Dickhead.”

Another thing Steve doesn’t remember doing last night is deciding to wake up with a godawful hangover but he supposes that’s what he gets for drinking possibly several hundred gallons of red wine. A wave of nausea washes through his body and Steve groans, pushing Bucky away with more force this time so he can throw the blanket back. The room is pleasantly cool and Steve feels the nausea receding, annoyingly replacing itself with the dull throb in his temples he’s come to associate with merlot. 

Beside him, Bucky blinks awake and makes a curious sound. He lifts his hand in front of Steve’s face, making an “ok” sign with his fingers.

Steve groans again, reaching blindly for his glasses. “I’m never drinking again.”

Bucky yawns. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” he says as he sits up, stretching his arms above his head. 

He’s shirtless, Steve notices. He refuses to let himself notice anything beyond that, like the soft shadows in the cave of Bucky’s hips, or the happy trail that disappears beneath the waistline of his boxers. Those are the kind of things Steve has deliberately not noticed about Bucky since he first didn’t notice them at age 14. No, he doesn’t notice those things at all.

“I want to die,” Steve tells him seriously, very slowly beginning his journey to standing so as to avoid the very real possibility of throwing up his own lungs. “You want water? M’goin’ for some.”

“Sure,” Bucky says and starts tugging on a t-shirt. Steve watches for just a moment (a tiny, insignificant moment) before heading out to the kitchen. 

There’s a note on the fridge telling him his ma is at Winnie’s and bottles of Tylenol and Excedrin on the kitchen table. Steve dumps three Tylenol pills into his hand and tosses them into his mouth, chasing them down with an entire glass of water which he refills for Bucky. He’s about to take the water and painkillers back to the bedroom for him when Bucky wanders into the kitchen, eyes half-lidded and hair mussed.

“So,” Steve says when they’re both settled at the table, tentatively sipping coffee and eating crackers. “Last night didn’t exactly go as planned.”

Bucky snorts. “You could say that.”

There’s an awkward silence, the kind Steve doesn’t remember settling between the two of them in years. He hates this, hates how difficult it’s already making things when they haven’t even _done_ anything yet.

“I- my ma got pretty emotional last night,” Steve says at last, staring pointedly into his mug. “She said that...well, I can’t remember exactly but she was really happy and she said she’d worry less knowing we were there for each other and-”

Bucky puts a hand on Steve’s where it’s resting on the table but Steve can’t look at him.

“I don’t think I can tell her,” he whispers.

More horrible, heavy silence. Bucky lets out a long breath. 

“So what do we do?” He asks. His voice is neutral and, when Steve looks up at him, so is his face. 

“Maybe we could just- wait? Not for too long. Just for a week, maybe? I just don’t think I can face this right now and I _know_ it’s selfish and it’s probably too much to ask of you but-”

“Steve,” Bucky says with a soft, warm smile. “It’s okay. If you keep going like this you really will need that nebuliser.”

Steve buries his face in his hands and takes a deep breath. He feels sick again. So far, being fake engaged fucking sucks. 

“We can wait a bit longer,” Bucky says calmly. “To be honest, I don’t want to tell my ma right now either. She was so excited last night at the idea of bringing you into the family officially.”

Steve flushes. “Christ, this is a mess.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs. “I really fucked up, huh?”

“No,” Steve says, resting his head on Bucky’s shoulder with a sigh of his own. _“We_ really fucked up.”

~

After saying goodbye to their parents and enduring a solemn journey home, the absolute last thing Steve wants to see upon walking into their flat is Clint fucking Barton offering them champagne in ‘just hitched’ glass flutes. Steve feels himself pale as the very thought of more alcohol ties his stomach in knots and Clint’s hollering for the others just shoots daggers through Steve’s aching head.

“Clint, would you keep it down,” Steve groans as Natasha and Sam appear from the living room to flank Clint in the hallway, each sporting mischievous grins. “Some of us are hungover.”

“It’s a Wednesday, Rogers!” Clint barks and, if anything, his voice gets louder. 

“Shut up, Barton,” Bucky huffs back, shooing the three of them into the living room so everyone can sit down. Steve sees, with growing dread, that Clint has connected his laptop up to their television which is currently displaying the first slide of a powerpoint presentation.

_So You’ve Decided To Get Fake Hitched To Your Childhood Crush. What Next?_

“Sam, what the fuck is this?” Steve asks, deciding he’s much more likely to get a sensible answer from Sam than Clint. 

Sam grins, the bastard, and says nothing.

Clint clears his throat. “We’re here to offer our services as fake wedding planner extraordinaires.”

“I think it’s ‘wedding planners extraordinaire’,” Nat corrects.

“No, I don’t think so,” Clint frowns.

“Pretty sure Nat’s right,” Bucky pipes up, just as Sam does the same.

“Personally, I don’t give a shit,” Steve grouches, shrinking down in his seat on the couch.

Clint raises an eyebrow. “What’s eating him?”

“Things with the parental units didn’t go exactly as planned. Oh, by the way, update: they don’t know it’s not real,” Bucky says, settling one hand absently into Steve’s hair in a way which has Steve melting under his fingers. 

Their friends exchange a look then - rather, a Look, with a capital L - but Steve is both too tired and in too much pain to bother asking what it means. Instead, he turns his attention to Clint who has taken up a prominent position just to the left of the television.

“So, you’ve decided to get fake hitched to your childhood crush,” he announces, raising his eyebrows at Steve and Bucky individually. “Now what?”

Steve considers faking an asthma attack to get out of this. In the end, he’s thankful he doesn’t because, while the majority of the powerpoint is exactly the kind of weird bullshit he’d expect from Clint, it actually contains a lifesaving idea.

“Pros and cons of the DIY wedding,” Clint says as he switches to a new slide and Steve perks up at the suggestion. “Pros. It costs less, is more artistically freeing, and comes with the added bonus of spending quality time with your families and fabulous friends.”

Cliny strikes a ridiculous pose which makes Steve think he should be wearing a tutu and tiara. 

“How exactly would a DIY wedding work?” He finds himself asking without ever really deciding to.

“Well, Steven, I am glad you asked,” Clint says, making Steve instantly less glad that he’d asked. “Each of us would take on a task that would typically cost hundreds or thousands of US dollars and figure out a way to make it happen for less with a bit more manual labour. For example, Peggy loves watching those ‘how to make a double cheeseburger out of cake’ videos, right? Well, she’s agreed to have a go at making a wedding cake.”

Steve is stunned. It’s clear that their friends have put a lot of thought into this and Steve is, despite his best efforts to remain grumpy and uncooperative, touched. 

“Guys, this is-” Bucky begins, voice full of the same sentiments nestled in Steve’s chest. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Hold your praise, my friend!” Clint says, holding up a hand to silence Bucky. “There’s more!”

Steve groans but it’s playful. He loves his friends and, if he has to fake marry Bucky, he’s glad to have all of these idiots helping him make it happen.

**Author's Note:**

> my computer deleted the next five chapters of this fic and i am desperately rewriting them as fast as i can but i must apologise to my giftee for delivering an incomplete fic. hopefully i should be able to get the rest up soon but rest assured i'm working my butt off!


End file.
